Living The Dream
by fantasylover53
Summary: Real Steel AU Charles Xavier's lifelong dream has been to lead his own team to victory in the WRB Championships. Now, he has his team, but can the X-Men rise up and take their place among the legends of robot boxing? RoLo Jott
1. Prologue

**Living The Dream**

**Real Steel AU Charles Xavier has only ever had one dream- to lead the first robot boxing team to glory in the WRB Championships. Now he has his team, but can he lead the X-Men to glory?**

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><p>The cheering of the crowd could be heard even through the doors and the layer of soil and concrete muffling it. Taking a deep breath, Charles Xavier closed his blue eyes and turned to face his young team.<p>

Opening his eyes, he appraised them soundly, pride stirring his heart. "X-Men."

Their attention gained, his team members turned to face him, nervousness and determination on their faces as they gathered in front of him.

"Ready your robots."

His team shared determined looks, heading off to their respective robots. As the sound of powering up robots and clinking metal found his ears, Charles looked skyward, listening to the chanting of the crowd. Imagined them swaying, chanting their names.

"Charles?"

Looking back down with a deep breath, he met his team's expectant faces, taking in their various earphones and their consoles strapped to their wrists. Swallowing, he opened his mouth to speak- and found his throat dry. "This is it. The goal. The Championships. What we're going to win." His determined gaze drifted across their nervous faces; Scott, with his game face on; Jean, with her face twisted with nerves; Ororo, shifting on the spot; Logan, hands clenched into fists.

"The Brotherhood are no match for us, and they know it. We have superior robots, superior brain power and we're a helluva lot more strong than them! Courage is all we need to win!"

Behind his team, the technicians nodded in agreement, letting loose cheers.

Charles smiled down at each and every one of them as behind him the doors opened. "Now go and hand them their asses on the arena floor."

His team shared looks, then filed out into the light one by one, game faces on, ready to take on the world.

Following the last robot out with Henry and Moira by his side, Charles took a deep breath as his face hit the stadium lights. "Good luck, my X-Men."

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><p>I just watched Real Steel last night- and it was awesome! Therefore, when lying in bed till 11:30 this morning, my brain came up with the weird idea of this story. Please, give me feedback!<p> 


	2. Money

"Charles?"

"Yes, Henry?"  
>Henry McCoy's lips curved upwards in an ecstatic grin, one hand holding out a seemingly insignificant slip of paper. "We got the money," he whispered reverently.<p>

Closing his book slowly, Charles rose in his chair, eyes trained on the piece of paper that he'd been dreaming about for years. Approaching his friend, one hand reached out and took it from the doctor, unfolding it shakily.

"_... and as the winner... we hereby award you with $10,000 worth of prize money..." _Charles let the sentence trail off his tongue, before he looked up at his friend with a smile threatening to split his face in two. "We won."

Hank smiled, nodding. "We won."

Letting loose a delighted laugh, Charles raised his hands in the air, dancing around in a circle as Hank watched his friend's obvious delight with a smile on his face.

"So what are going to do with the money?"

Both men turned- Charles pausing in his dance- to face Moira McTaggart, the woman who had just entered the room.

"Well," Charles grinned slowly, "we have to use it for a good cause."

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><p>"Are you sure about this?"<p>

"Sure? Of course I'm sure, why wouldn't I be?"

Moira and Henry shared a look that spoke volumes, before turning to look back at Charles, who was staring at them patiently. "It's just... you have ten thousand dollars," Henry began, "and we're just..."

"Wouldn't it be better to pay off the mortgage and... well, the, the money you..."

Charles's face twisted into a frown, blue eyes staring at Moira as she trailed off. "You don't see the reason, do you?"

"Charles, what we see is you trying to live a dream that you can't possibly achieve! For God's sake my friend, you owe money to the school!"

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><p>Dismissing their concerns after only a brief consideration of them, Charles approached them eagerly. "Don't you see? I can start this, this team, and the money we win can be used to pay off all the debts <em>and <em>the mortgage _and_-"

"You have _ten thousand dollars_ Charles."

"Moira-"

"And anyway, where are you going to find anybody crazy enough to join you? And on top of that, ten thousand isn't enough to start a _**robot boxing team**_-"

"No, no, it'll be a successful _WRB _team-"

"-and where are you going to get the extra money from?"

Throwing his arms up in the air, Charles sighed and walked away, pausing to look back at the two who stared evenly back at him. "Come with me," he said, "and I'll show you."

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><p>"<em>You? Gonna start a boxing team? Oh please..."<em>

_"Ain't got nothin' to say if you're stupid enough to believe you can do **that**."_

"_For gawd's sake, d'ya honestly think you can get a team into the **WRB CHAMPIONSHIPS**?"_

"This is hopeless."

"Glad you finally see it that way."

"Moira, what am I doing?"

"Making yourself drunk, by the looks of it."

"Erik... Erik did it... the Brotherhood... they're a successful team..."

"Yeah, but Erik's a backstabber. A cheat. We both know he couldn't have gotten that far without-"

"-tricking me." _Hiccup. _"And I fell for it."

_Sigh. _"Don't give up on me now Charles."

"Y'know, I think... _hiccup..._ I think your right. No giving up! The X-Men will exist and _I'll_ get them to the WRB Championships!"

_Smash. Thud. _

Moira sighed heavily, shaking her head as she looked down at the limp heap on the ground that was Charles Xavier. "Sometimes," she muttered quietly, "sometimes Charles, I swear you have the most **stupid** ideas."

"Oi! Ain't you gonna pay his tab?"

Moira looked up at the bartender with a sigh.

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><p>Got round to the second chapter this morning. I was going to somehow base this on X-Men: First Class, but I haven't seen the movie yet so... it's now an AU. With sort of vague details (I think) referring to First Class. Is Moira actually <em>in<em> that movie?


	3. Tall Tales

"Did I say something last night?"

"No Charles," Moira sighed, running her hands through her hair tiredly at the question, "you smashed a whiskey bottle then fainted. Then I had to pay the tab, get a taxi, drive you back here, answer questions from your oh so concerned and giggling students, get you into bed-"

"Alright, I uh, get the idea now. You can stop."

"-then, hide all the alcohol and I actually considered gagging you when you started talking in your sleep. About Erik."

"...Ah."

"Yes. Ah."

"I, erm, well..."

"What are we talking about this fine morning?" Hank boomed, coming into the kitchen, only to freeze as he beheld Charles's abashed face. A frown flickered over his lips, before he sighed heavily. "Let me guess, you got so down from everyone laughing at your dream that you went to a bar, got drunk, and it was up to Moira to haul you back here after paying your tab."

Charles blinked slowly. "Are you telepathic?"

"No," Henry said shortly, "it's just I did that once."

"Least you didn't talk in your sleep afterwards," Moira muttered, grabbing her coffee and taking a sip as Charles shot her a look and Hank raised an eyebrow.

"Do I want to know?"

"No."

"Then I won't ask."

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><p>"Would any of you three care to tell me exactly what happened for you to end up in my office this fine morning?"<p>

The three people in front of him shifted uncomfortably in their seats, each shooting looks at each other accusingly, yet no words were spoken. Charles sighed.

"You were once students at this school, weren't you?"

"You know we were Professor."

Resting his eyes on the owner of the affronted voice, Charles rubbed his temples as he felt another migraine coming on. "Jean, I know that."

The red head bit her lip and looked away, towards her boyfriend, Scott Summers. "Professor-"

Charles held up a hand as he beheld his three former students sitting guiltily in front of his desk. "Jean, Scott, Ororo, what happened?"

As Jean reluctantly spoke up about how it was all Ororo's fault and proceeded to tell a tale of complete lies about her trying to steal Scott from her, Charles sighed and closed his eyes. About half-way through the story, when Jean was describing what Ororo had tried to do to her, Charles stopped her with a look.

"Ororo," he said smoothly, and the African in question looked at him blankly, "do you deny trying to beat Jean up?"

"No."

Charles sighed. "Were you trying to "steal Scott" from her?"

Ororo sniffed, hatred burning in her gaze as she glared at Jean stubbornly. "No."

"Then why were you trying to beat her up?"

"She annoyed me. Called me a freak because of my hair." As she spoke, one dark hand came up to stroke a lock of pure white hair that fell in front of her eyes. Cerulean blue eyes met blue, and Ororo blinked.

"Scott, where we you during all of this?"

Scott frowned, sitting up straight in his seat. "I was nowhere near the scene, Professor. Ask Kurt. I was with him."

Sitting back in his chair, Charles regarded his former students with a sigh.

_Three different stories..._

Clearing his throat after a moment, Charles leant forward again, crossing his arms as he wondered why the three never got along properly. "You three graduated from this school with flying honours. You were the best of friends. And I let you three back into this school with the knowledge that you would continue your college and university studies from here. Am I correct?"

Three murmured agreements came from the young adults.

"But this sort of behaviour is not tolerated. So I will have to punish you."

Three sets of horrified eyes stared at him.

"Tell me," he offered, with a small smirk, "what do you think of robot boxing?"

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><p>The part where Charles talks in his sleep may be referred to as slash, but you can decide that or not.<p> 


	4. Hangovers

Watching the three retreating, offended backs of Jean, Ororo and Scott as they left his office, Charles sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, biting his lip as he massaged his temples as his head throbbed painfully once more.

Hissing a groan out through his teeth as he fumbled for an aspirin, he dimly thought over to how he was supposed to get hold of anybody willing to train a robot boxing team. He was out of the question.

Biting his lip as he shook a tablet out onto his palm and swallowed it dry, Charles closed his eyes slowly and sank back against his chair, flicking a piece of paper to the floor by accident with his elbow. Groaning, as he bent down to pick it up, his eyes scanned the title of the page.

A second later, he was praising his elbow.

* * *

><p>The phone ringing jolted him from a peaceful sleep.<p>

With an annoyed grunt from their owner, green flecked brown eyes cracked open slowly. With a heavy sigh, the young man reached for the cordless phone he kept on his bedside table, disturbing the young woman sleeping by his side. Shooting her a glance as he picked up the phone, he vaguely wondered what her name was. "Hello?"

_"James Howlett?"_

The voice that echoed over the phone line was so familiar and yet so hard to place, that the young man named James Howlett nearly fell out of bed at hearing his last name. "Uh... yeah?"

_"It's Charles Xavier speaking. In regards to the email you sent."_

_Xavier, Xavier, Xavier... where __**have**__ I heard that name before? _"Email?"

The sound of his voice startled the woman besides him, and the brunette slowly sat up, tossing him a sultry smile as she rolled out of bed, naked as the day she was born.

Partially distracted by the sight her ass through the open bathroom door, James missed the beginning of Charles Xavier's next sentence. "Sorry, what was that?"

Amusement laced the man's voice over the phone when he spoke again. _"Rough night?"_

"Dunno, to be honest. What'd you say?"

_"James... do you honestly not remember your old headmaster?"_

As the gears clicked into place inside James's mind, leaving the young man rolling in eyes with annoyance at himself, he fumbled around with one hand for his clothes- not that he remembered where they were. "Ah... sorry Professor."

"_It's no problem. I'm calling about the email I received. Congratulations, by the way, on your... what was it? Black belt?"_

Realising what his old teacher was talking about, James corrected him distractedly, attention torn between the phone, his clothes and the woman in the bathroom grinning at him. "2nd Dan."

_"Yes, as I said, congratulations."_

"Uh, thanks."

_"Well, I received an email, recently, from your father, coincidently. About your achievement. And it got me thinking."_

"What about?" Abandoning the search for his jeans, James wandered towards the bathroom, eyes glued onto the woman- he _still _couldn't remember her name- smiling at him.

"_A job actually. I was wondering if you would like an opportunity to work at the school."_

That gave James pause. Go back to work at the school that he was teased relentlessly at, or stay in his non-existence of drinking, fucking and sleeping in crappy motels? Casting his eyes back to the woman on the bed, he smirked. "I'll call you back."

Without further ado, he hung up to the Professor's spluttered protests, threw the phone on the bed and promptly forgot about everything but the business at hand.

The door to the bathroom slammed closed.

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><p>I'm planning on updating Family Ties over the weekend, so if anyone has any suggestions for the next chapter please review or PM me- I'm stumped.<p> 


	5. Old Classmates

"God... I mean, really... GOD!"

"We get the idea Jean."

Nineteen year old Jean Grey scowled deeply at her sometimes friend, mostly enemy Ororo Munroe. "What? You aren't upset about this?"

Ororo shrugged, her jacket slipping free of one shoulder carelessly. "Not really." As Jean's raised eyebrow and disbelieving look, she relented reluctantly. "A bit. Happy now _Jeannie_?"

Jean scowled darkly at her as she turned on the spot, crossing her arms and pouting at the window. "I mean... it's just so STUPID that WE have to have PUNISHMENT. Us!"

"You mean _you_, Miss Perfect."

Jean's face twisted into an even darker scowl as she spun to glare at Ororo vehemently. "Listen you little punk," she spat out, "I don't care _where _the Professor found you, _no one_ talks to me that way!"

Ororo smirked as she strode past the fuming red head coolly. "I just did."

Leaving Jean spluttering in anger behind her, Ororo let the smirk fall from her face as she continued walking. _Time to go blow off some steam..._

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><p>Three hours and four ruined punching bags later, Ororo stepped out of the gym refreshed and raring to go. Of course, it helped that she'd painted Jean and the Professor's face on the punching bags.<p>

Shaking her long white hair free from it's loose ponytail, she pulled the door shut behind her, slinging her gym bag over her shoulder and walking towards the showers. As she walked, she mused over the up and coming punishment the Professor had set them.

_Robot boxing... robot boxing... I don't even **watch **robot boxing. I prefer the good ol' human versus human matches. Yeah, like Charlie Kenton... oh boy that was a good one._

Ruminating over the best fight she could remember, she pushed open the women's shower door and dropped her bag on the floor, before bending down to rummage through for shampoo.

"Y'know, you might want ya close the door if yer gonna take a shower."

Startled, she stood straight up, whirling around to glare at the offender who dared peek into her private time. "You shouldn't be looking."

There was a deep chuckle, before a young man stepped into her line of view. "How can a guy not notice that ass?"

Ororo openly studied the newcomer, letting her eyes drift over every inch of him. His dark, ruffled hair was long, and stubble shaded a strong jawline. His eyes were a green flecked chocolate brown, and as her eyes drifted downwards, she noticed and absorbed the tight black t-shirt that highlighted abs that defied explanation as how they got so perfect (in her mind at least), the leather jacket, the tight dark blue jeans and the steel-toed boots.

Letting her eyes come back up, they lingered for a moment on his smirking lips, before she huffed and closed the door behind her as she stepped outside. "You are?"

The young man smirked, holding out a hand that was rough yet strangely soft skinned. "James Logan."

Ororo automatically shook his hand, mulling over the name in her memory banks. "Not the same small, slim, shy James Logan that used to attend this school?"

James smirked. "Yup... Ororo. Ain't changed a bit, have ya?"

Mentally comparing the small, diminutive boy that had been in her Leavers class to the ruggedly, incredibly good looking man before her, Ororo dimly heard herself speak. "Not other than the fact I'm studying Horticulture. You?"

James cocked his head to the side, and Ororo found her gaze drifting to his lips again, before she scowled and mentally hit herself. _Concentrate Ororo. _"Come on... you must have done something. You, the once short boy who loved to dig his head into books about nature."

James's face was blank as he spoke. "2nd Dan Black Belt in Karate, Black Belt in Judo. I can now speak fluent Japanese, German and Spanish and just quit from the Canadian Military."

Ororo raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Wow."

Silence fell for a moment, both shifting on the balls of their feet as they not so subtly checked each other out.

"So," Ororo broke the silence, dragging her gaze north from his chest again, "what brings you back to 'Mutant High?'"

"The Professor asked me back," was his answer, "apparently you, Jean and whats-his-name, y'know pretty boy Summers, need a tutor for your... punishment. Apparently he wants you three in top condition. Mind filling me on on what it's for?"

Ororo stared at him for a long moment, before she shrugged, mulling over his purpose here. "Hmm. Ask him."

Turning her back on James firmly, and pushing aside her sudden want to stay and kiss him senseless, she pushed open the bathroom door again. "I'll see you around then."

She heard his gruff "I guess" through the door as she sank to the floor breathlessly.

_Good **God**. Who would have thought **he'd **turn out so friggin' **sexy**?_

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><p>I'm trying to base there characters (with some alterations, obviously) on those of the Ultimate X-Men. ie. Ororo will be like she is in the comics, all into bikes etc. But Logan isn't a killer in this... it just wouldn't be right for the story... If anyone has any hints for this, please let me know, I've only got the first three Ultimate Marvel comic books to refer from.<p> 


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